


shallow graves, shallow hearts

by transvav



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, Gunshots, I promise, M/M, Minor Character Death, People get shot, Violence, a rewrite of my first ever fic!, but no one important dies, now with a million percent more jeremy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-21 03:34:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10676862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transvav/pseuds/transvav
Summary: Getting hired into the Fake AH Crew was not really a part of Ryan's plan.Falling in love with Gavin Free was absolutely not a part of his plan at all.(a rewrite ofto hell with the rest)





	shallow graves, shallow hearts

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Welcome to the 'I've been a part of the RT Community for four years now, god help my that first fic was awful holy shit I should rewrite it' rewrite!  
> And hey future me next time let's not decide to write something and then not write it for an entire year. Thanks.
> 
> [The original.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2285202)

Ryan came to Los Santos for a well paying hit on some kid who’d run from home.

It had been less of a ‘hit’ really, and more of a glorified babysitting job to find this rich brat and drag his ass back home relatively unharmed. To play bodyguard to someone he’d probably want to kill within the first five minutes of meeting him. In the middle of his search, however, he’d been pulled into a shoot out by a man that he would have suspected as homeless if not for the perfectly tailored suit and the semi-automatic.

“You! Help! Give you a cut, later, if we make it!”

The man- _Ramsey_ , he realized, _Geoff Ramsey_ \- tossed him another gun and turned back to his own firefight across the way. Ryan had huffed and dropped the gun, opting instead to pull out a grenade and lob it towards the crowd of police on the other side of the street. He’d grabbed Ramsey and the woman, Pattillo, he guessed, by the back of their collars and despite their protests had dragged them further away from the impending explosion.

After that he’d just ended up sticking around. Ramsey was notorious in being reckless, but Ryan hadn’t expected him to hire the Vagabond in the middle of a god damn heist. He’d met the rest of the crew in no time at all, because Ramsey had excitedly offered him a permanent position.

His disapproval was immediate.

He’d already met Geoff and Jack. There was nothing much to say about them, other than Geoff’s apparent issues with knowledge on shaving, and how Jack really looked more like a cuddly marshmallow (Ryan knew better, by now, that this was not the case. She’d almost broken his wrist when he’d let go of her after that heist, and it was only because he’d managed to wrench his hand away that she hadn’t).

The other three were a lot more unpredictable at first sight. Michael looked constantly pissed, Jeremy looked like a lost puppy, and Gavin he couldn’t even look at without being completely blinded by the millions of gleams of gold. They were energetic and overbearingly loud and skittish, and for the first few times Ryan worked a job with the Fakes, he wondered how on earth any of the five managed to work together.

And then he moved in. It was his initiation, really, to see if he could even _put up_ with any of them for an extensive time. He didn’t expect himself to last longer than an hour in the penthouse. Yet he found himself pleasantly surprised. Their personalities seemed to be a lot different than he’d first thought- Michael being a lot kinder with a fierce protective streak for the younger lads. Jeremy was always so motivated and excited but was sly and dangerous and didn’t stand for bullshit. Both of them had qualities that redeemed their place on the crew beyond their skills. Except Gavin.

Beyond his flashy, cocky, blindingly bright golden exterior, Gavin just seemed... innocent, compared to everyone else. Sweet and naive and curious, like a kid at his parent’s business meeting, tugging on his dad’s pant leg every so often hoping to get an explanation as to what was going on. Maybe even sitting on the table, dutifully pretending to give a report, while the surrounding coworkers humored his childish antics with occasional nods. Gavin was _exactly_ that, a seemingly useless clumsy little child.

And yet here he was sitting in the middle of one of the most expensive penthouse suites, surrounded by a group of wanted criminals, kicking their asses at chess while wearing sunglasses indoors.

Ryan was absolutely enthralled.

After asking around a bit, he was directed to Geoff’s office. He gently shut the door behind him and Geoff looked up from where he was pouring another tumbler of whiskey.

“You wanna know about Gav, right?”

Ryan shrugged, and Geoff chuckled, placing the bottle down. “He’s a liability, he’s useless, I don’t see the potential. That sort of shit, yeah? Yeah, that’s what everyone else thought too. For all I know they still think that about him- he tends to fuck up a whole lot of the time.”

Taking a swig of the drink, he stood, going over to a cabinet and tossing a picture frame over to Ryan, who caught it carefully and turned it over. It was obviously a younger Geoff, with a couple other guys, but his focus was drawn to the kid beneath Geoff’s right arm. Gavin was small now, but back _then..._

“He was a tiny kid. Barely fifteen, didn’t weigh shit, swear to god I didn’t even think he had _skin_ the first time I saw him he was so covered in dirt. And I might have been a criminal but god forbid if I don’t have a soft spot for fucking foreign homeless _children_. I walked right up to him and offered some food, a place to stay- the way his eyes widened, it was like he won the fuckin’ lottery or something. He was still scared as all dicks when I took him home, I mean who wouldn’t be, stranger just offers you stuff like this.

“But when I had him get changed-” Geoff had to pause, to take a shuddering breath, and Ryan glanced up in mild horror. Geoff usually wasn’t so openly emotional. “-jesus, he was covered in scars. I couldn’t figure it out, he wouldn’t tell me. Said it didn’t matter. Asked him about his parents, said he didn’t have any. So I left it alone. If he wanted to tell me he would. Still hasn’t, of course, but hey, I’m a patient guy.”

Ryan hummed and Geoff turned to him suddenly, a wild fierceness in his eye. “That kid is basically my son,” he said, with such a severe tone that Ryan actually stepped back slightly. “I’ve seen shit he does and it’s enough to scare the living hell out of anyone who has any sense of reason. But I also know he’s a trusting little fuck and the second he deems you worthy he’s gonna _cling_. You hurt my boy, Vagabond-”

Ryan raised his hands in defense and nodded. There wouldn’t be any problem. He was pretty sure Gavin was still afraid of him anyways.

But what Geoff had said about Gavin being able to scare people with the things he could do. Well.

Ryan desperately continued to spare glances and gazes Gavin’s way, at any time possible, hoping for a glimpse of some secret ability, of something that could redeem Gavin into being more than just Geoff’s adopted twink for a son. The younger man would never know unless he stared directly at Ryan’s eyes, which was definitely out of the question.

 

It took the both of them a bit to meet a neutral ground of ‘I don’t hate you, you don’t hate me.’

From there all bets were off.

It started with the questions, because Gavin tended to be creatively curious, and Ryan tended to be someone who hated not to leave things unanswered.

“Do you think,” Gavin had said one day in the middle of the planning room. Everyone had groaned. Ryan raised an eyebrow. “Do you think dogs that were raised in Spain can understand english?”

And Ryan couldn’t help himself. “ _What_ the fuck does that mean.”

Everyone jumped slightly, turning to stare at him. Ryan knew he didn’t talk often, mostly used sign language and such, but honestly, Gavin, what the _fuck_. Gavin grinned in response, eyes bright beneath his sunglasses. “Because, you know,” he continued casually, but that shit eating grin was still on his face, “they speak _spanish_. Not english. Same with dogs in Russia, or Germany. Y’know. Do they get english?”

Ryan blinked once. Then twice. Then- “I don’t have a clue. Probably? Why do you give a shit, are you planning on getting a russian raised dog or something?”

The rest of the crew was too shocked at this point to really react to anything beyond Ryan speaking, but Gavin shook his head no in response. His smile was as wide as ever but there was something a lot softer in it, a lot warmer. He turned back to the map and tapped it with the lid of the pen he’d been twirling. “Back to business Geoffery, your gay for deep voices is showing.”

Geoff did, in fact, get over his shock enough to swat at Gavin’s snickering head while the rest of the crew started giggling along with him. But when Ryan leaned forward against Gavin’s chair for a better look, Gavin tilted his head back with another, smaller smile, and Ryan couldn’t help but reciprocate. When he realized Gavin couldn’t see, he simply nodded, and it was all the brit needed before he looked down again, squirming with excitement and glee.

That was only the beginning.

Gavin’s joy at having someone answer his hypotheticals was contagious. The entire crew seemed overly giddy the next heist, even when things went awful, because things always did with this crew. And after the failed heist was over, and they’d all piled into cars and onto bikes, Ryan, Michael, and Gavin raced each other down the streets in east part of the city- when Ryan and Gavin reached the port, they paused, realized they’d gone the wrong way, and sped off the opposite direction again. Gavin won twenty bucks by beating him back to the penthouse, but Michael ended up forty richer by having beaten them _both_.

Their conversations were never _normal_ , of course, because Gavin was the definition of not normal, and nine times out of ten they managed to start with questions about assholes and anuses. It ended in jested shouting and most of the crew in frustration or tears from laughter, Gavin’s sneaky grins to Ryan, Ryan’s nods and winks in return. And they didn’t hate each other any more. They were surprisingly close.

The rest of the crew seemed to fear Ryan, his creepy demeanor and supposed love of murder. But that was a reputation, of course. Reputations had to be upheld. Except Gavin tended to cling _despite_ that. He’d latch onto Ryan like a squid, even when the mercenary was still dirty from a job. He’d laugh at Ryan’s threats, he’d giggle at Ryan’s not so subtly creepy jokes, and he constantly chattered about things with Ryan that had the others wide eyed at him because _holy shit, Gavin, he’s gonna kill you, what are you doing?_

Gavin laughed it off and Ryan smiled under his mask, because after their initial bump in the road, they opened up a lot more to each other. The trust Ryan felt was incredible, and he could see so much more in Gavin he hadn’t noticed. He’d been too focused on trying to make the other not hate him.

And thus a wonderful friendship formed.

 

Gavin’s apartment wasn’t as glitzy as Ryan had thought it was going to be. In fact, it seemed pretty standard, save for a few expensive trinkets lying here and there, gifts from the crew that Gavin explained were for formal purposes only. Ryan hummed in response, showing he was paying attention, but still taking in everything else in the room.

“You don’t have to, y’know,” Gavin said, and Ryan turned back to him. The brit shrugged. “Just ask. I’m not very closed off.”

Ryan scoffed and rolled his eyes, gesturing to Gavin’s sunglasses. He pushed them up the bridge of his nose defensively and coughed. Ryan gestured again, a wide, _what did I just say_ motion. Gavin huffed and relented, gently dropping them onto a side table. The mercenary looked confused at the care of it.

“Most expensive thing I own, probably,” Gavin laughed. “I think it was six thousand dollars? Can’t quite say, was the first thing I bought with my heist money. Kinda stupid, but. I take care of my things.”

Ryan nodded. He could understand that. He moved to the couch as Gavin disappeared into his own room, presumably to take off his sweaty clothing and change into another damnably expensive silk shirt and tight jeans. Instead he returned in a pair of loose fitting pajama pants and an oversized shirt, his jewelry _mostly_ taken off, save for a gold chain and his earrings. He was holding something in his hand and he looked a lot more nervous than before.

“I’m all for sharing and stuff but. I need something to concentrate on while I talk? About? Personal things? Because I’m a mess and not really good with-”

“It’s fine.”

Those two words made Gavin brighten considerably, and because his sunglasses were gone, Ryan got to see those eyes of his light up. Wait. No. That was really gay of him to think. What the fuck, Ryan.

And then Gavin held out the polish. Gold nail polish. Jesus christ, of course. “Your nails are awful, please. Please.”

They sat together and Gavin pulled a manicure kit from god knows where, instantly tugging Ryan’s gloves off and starting a vicious filing that was actually a little painful. And they talked. Ryan learned everything about Gavin- how his closet had a few choice silk shirts, and one or two pairs of jeans, and that was only for work. How Gavin liked to fly because it was a lot more freeing than driving a car and also planes and helicopters had the aiming system built in. How Gavin’s bike was a gift from Burnie, a welcome to America type thing, and how Gavin treated that thing with all the care in the world by just not _driving_ it because that was as careful as he was gonna get. His favorite color was gold (unsurprising) and he had a cat named Smee that liked to hide on top of the fridge and jump onto Gavin as he passed.

In return, as Ryan took the polish and started meticulously painting Gavin’s nails, he slowly began to reveal himself. He did enjoy murder, but really not as much as he made it seem, honestly. How he was really more a scientist than anything. He did, in fact, play Xbox, but preferred PC. He was more of a dog person- but cats were cool too- but since he couldn’t have any animals where he lived, he had plants. A _lot_ of plants.

Gavin squealed in delight. “You’ll have to take me to meet them sometime!”

Ryan ducked his head downwards, hiding a smile from Gavin. Not like he would have seen it anyways, because of the mask. He finished Gavin’s last nail, letting the lad pull his hands away and hold them up to the light. He hummed in approval. “Steady hands.”

“Hey, I gotta have steady hands. Gotta have good aim.”

Gavin laughed before very carefully picking up the TV remote on his coffee table, cautiously avoiding hitting his wet nails against anything. He switched it on and tossed the remote to Ryan, who blinked at it. “Choose what you want. I don’t really mind. If you wanna go to bed, the room’s through that door there.”

Ryan blinked at him this time. “Gavin, no offense, but I’m not sharing a bed with you.”

“I know,” Gavin nodded. Ryan’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and Gavin rolled his eyes. “I’m taking the couch, you daft idiot.”

“Wait, no-”

“I’m the one that got you trapped here, remember? And you’re a _guest_. Chill out, Ryan. It’s fine.”

Gavin quirked another rare, _real_ smile at him, and Ryan resigned, settling on an old rerun of Criminal Minds. Gavin kicked his feet up onto the coffee table and rested his hands on his thighs to let the polish dry, and they lapsed into comfortable silence. Ryan looked down at his fingernails- they’d been filed and clipped completely down, and Gavin had even put a clear coat on top of them with a wink.

“Gavin,” he finally murmured after a few minutes of blissful calm. The lad hummed an acknowledgement, and Ryan swallowed slightly. Why did _this_ make him nervous?

“Why are you with the crew?”

Gavin stiffened where he sat, nearly clenching his fists but remembering about his nails. He smiled tightly at the older, forced and fake, and Ryan instantly backtracked. “Sorry, sorry, you don’t... have to answer. You were open enough about everything else, I just... that was, uh. Pretty presumptuous of me. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Gavin said, but there was something cold in it. Ryan nodded awkwardly and got up off the couch. He looked at his nails again and grimaced under his mask.

“I’ll, uh. I’ll go to bed. See you in the morning, Gav.”

Gavin didn’t reply and Ryan disappeared into the hall, slumping down on Gavin’s bed. throwing his mask to the side and rubbing his face with his hands in his exasperation.

He woke up in the morning and made his way out to the main room groggily, wary of Gavin, hoping not to run into him and ruin things more- but Gavin ran into him, on purpose, it seemed, because instantly the brit was gripping at his hands and tugging, trying to keep him still, apologising for the night before.

“No, no, I was really digging into a part of your life I shouldn’t have, it’s not-”

“I’m not so _used_ to being this close. That’s just- it’s weird. And I didn’t expect that? And I was kinda bloody rude about it and I’m just. Really uncomfortable sharing about my life, I s’pose, and I’ll talk to you more about it someday but I don’t want to make it _too_ awkward by being so rude last night...”

He trailed off awkwardly and Ryan chuckled, squeezing his hands. “I understand.”

Gavin huffed a sigh of relief and things went back to normal after that, Gavin back to his cocky self and Ryan back to... well. Ryan. The crew didn’t even notice anything had happened.

 

Gavin could have stabbed Ryan in the back, literally, and Ryan probably would have forgiven him. It was sickening.

Ryan hadn’t trusted anyone so completely in years. Not even the people that hired him ever received the amount of respect he gave Gavin- the crew still had yet to see behind his mask and they’d barely heard his voice, and yet Gavin had the ability to ask how his _plants_ were doing on the daily.

Jeremy brought it up once in front of the rest of the crew when Gavin was out on a job.

“You and Gav have been pretty close,” he hummed once while watching Michael and Lindsay battle it out in Call of Duty. Michael, who was already losing terribly, looked back and noticed Ryan watching them. He scoffed.

“Pretty close is definitely one way of putting it. You jumping on his dick any time soon?”

Lindsay snorted and claimed another kill while Ryan managed to choke on air, pulling a snigger from Jeremy and Michael. He managed to fix the redhead with a glare but Michael only huffed and shook his head. “Gavin hasn’t been so happy in the entire time I’ve known him, dude. Kind of makes you wonder.”

But despite the rest of the crew’s insistence, Gavin and Ryan maintained the fact that they were _friends_. Ryan managed to admit to himself that the lines of his feelings were blurring, slightly, because as much as he admired Gavin as a friend and coworker, he also felt an incredibly dangerous amount of affection that was in no way platonic.

It was there when Gavin tilted his head back in the middle of a chase, with the light reflecting off his golden sunglasses and the sound of gunfire echoing behind them, his smile brighter than the sun and his mess of hair getting even messier in the wind blowing by as they drove on.

It was there in the penthouse when Gavin stole Geoff’s beer from right under his nose and snickered when the older man started pitching a fit trying to figure out who did it and the longer it went on the more Gavin laughed and the more Ryan couldn’t breathe.

It was there when it was just them in Gavin’s apartment watching shitty movies, Gavin lounging across the couch with his head in Ryan’s lap, not even paying attention to the screen as he continuously filed his nails to a sharp point for an aesthetic purpose Ryan could sort of understand.

He hated it. Hated the entire idea of ever liking someone like Gavin, someone he didn’t deserve, someone who seemed so untouchable and unreachable. And, he realized once with striking significance, it had been three months and he _still_ didn’t know what Gavin’s job in the crew was. He hadn’t bothered asking anyone for personal reasons mostly including dignity and not wanting to look like a fucking idiot, but he was still curious as to what on earth Gavin could be useful at.

And, after realizing he didn’t know, he started picking up on more and more. How Gavin was so often out for days, maybe weeks at a time, on jobs, never coming back without a smile and some news for the crew that set a new plan into motion. How once, while on a hit with Michael, their target had glanced between them nervously, expectantly, and then-

“No Golden Boy?”

“Oh no,” Michael had sneered, “You had your chance with him. A veto is a veto, bud. You’re fucking _dead_.”

The man had begged for mercy, for another try, handing out promises and guns and anything he could to save himself. It did nothing for him but make his death a little more pathetic. When Michael mentioned it to Gavin the brit had rolled his eyes and mumbled something about ungrateful assholes and Ryan had watched him with a heightened interest.

Once Gavin had come to the penthouse in the middle of the night. Ryan had been on the couch, scrolling helplessly through his computer for something to entertain him during his sleepless night. Hearing the door open he’d looked up, naturally, and had to stifle his choked noise as the other appeared in the doorstep drenched in blood. Ryan managed to keep himself quiet enough to realize that Gavin wasn’t in any pain, and subsequently came to the fact that the blood wasn’t his. Gavin disappeared into the bathroom and Ryan heard the shower start up, and another few minutes passed before the brit returned, his hair sopping wet and shirtless.

Even in the soft light of the various appliances around the penthouse, Ryan could see what Geoff had mentioned all those weeks ago. Gavin’s torso was littered in scars, overlapping and small and large. It made Ryan sick in ways he’d never been before, protection and concern bubbling in his chest. Gavin made his way around the kitchen silently, pulling a bottle of water from the fridge and a few things from the cupboard before going back into the hallway once again, heading for his bedroom. Ryan said nothing, only laying down on the couch to stare at the ceiling and contemplate what the fuck was going on with Gavin.

 

He got some form of an answer not too long after that night, as Gavin cheerfully pulled him out on a job with him.

“Hired muscle!” he giggled, tugging insistently on Ryan’s sleeve like a child. “Don’t make me _leash_ you, Ry-bread.”

Ryan snorted at the idea, pulling his arm away but obediently following Gavin towards the elevator that went down to the garage. “If anyone needs a leash, it’s _you_. You’re so damn reckless all the time, keep getting lost. At least if we had you tied down you couldn’t do anything unless we told you.”

He decided not to mention the way Gavin suddenly fell silent as his face flushed a brilliant red. The ride down was not as awkward as it could have been, really, but considering the amount of sexual jokes the crew made around each other it was strange it was awkward at all, really.

They stepped into the garage, looking around at the variety of cars before Ryan caught Gavin’s gaze settling on the matte black bike in the corner, a sharp grin making its way onto his lips. Ryan rubbed at his temples as Gavin sprinted towards the bike, giggling maniacally and sliding onto the back. After pulling his mask down and grabbing the keys, the older followed him over and straddled the seat, starting it up and sitting up straight. Tan arms wrapped around his middle, golden bracelets and watches glinting brightly against the dark leather of his jacket. He looked over his shoulder to see Gavin give him a cheeky grin and a nod as the garage door opened.

He peeled out onto the street, tires screeching and felt adrenaline rush through him at the sound of horns honking in protest, at Gavin’s loud cheer of pure joy as they shot off towards the meeting point.

Ryan knew Gavin’s love of motorcycles. He knew that Gavin probably could have spread his arms and gone without holding on to him the entire time, and have been perfectly fine, if only a bit more windswept and ruffled than usual. But the Brit’s hold on him only tightened with each corner and burst of speed. A giggle or shout escaped him each time, making Ryan aware that he wasn’t doing so out of fear. At one point he could have sworn he’d felt a pair of lips brush the back of his neck- it made him shiver, and the lad had _squeezed_ , snickering. Ryan’s pants seemed to tighten.

They pulled up to the spot, just at the edge of a construction site, relatively near one of the crew’s old safehouses, and Gavin squeezed once more before letting go and pulling away.

Ryan missed the warmth for a second before he realized it’d only served in making him sweat even more.

Cursing, he got up, his footsteps heavy in comparison to Gavin’s as the lad sauntered towards a group of men that Ryan assumed were the people he was here to meet with. They turned as he approached, the one in front nodding once in greeting.

“Morning, lads,” Gavin hummed, gesturing to Ryan. The mercenary smiled to himself as he watched them tense up at the sight of him, a few men reaching for weapons at their waist before Gavin continued. “I’m sure you all know of the Vagabond. He owes me a few favors, so I’ve been taking him along to most things, I hope you don’t mind.”

“...of course not,” the man in front said after a moment’s hesitation. “May I ask why we have the pleasure today of speaking with you?”

Gavin smiled. “A few weeks ago there was an incident with the bank on Forthes Street. I believe it was you and your crew we had the unfortunate pleasure of running into during a heist of ours.”

“Might’ve been. A lot of crews around this shithole.”

“Mmhmm. Well, there are _boundaries_ in this shithole, love. I’m sure you’re aware of that, of course- maybe this was just a small mistake on your part. I’m _just_ here for the warning.”

“Ramsey couldn’t handle a touch of competition, then.”

“That’s not it at all. That bank was under our territory. You tried to take from it. Ramsey isn’t happy.”

Another man scoffed in the back. “I like how you say ‘our’ as if you have any fucking position in that crew.”

Gavin rolled his neck and turned his head towards him. “I’m sorry?”

“Everyone knows you ain’t shit to them. Paid your way in like the rich bitch you are.”

Ryan shifted again, going to crack his knuckles, but a hand on his arm gave him pause. Gavin exhaled slowly, pursing his lips, and stepping forward up into the other man’s face. “One more time, love. I don’t think I heard you clearly.”

One of the men stepped back, wide-eyed, and the one in front took in a sharp breath. The one Gavin was standing in front of sneered at him and tilted his chin upwards. “Rich fucking worthless _bitch_.”

In less than an instant Ryan heard the clinking of golden jewelry and a solid noise of a heavy punch. The offender fell to the ground, clutching at his nose and making weak sounds of protest. Gavin glanced towards the others. “He’s new, I’m assuming?”

They both nodded, eyes wide, and he huffed a sigh. Ryan watched in awe as Gavin tugged a knife out and knelt down, holding it close to the man’s throat. Immediately he froze up, pulling his hands away from his nose as blood streamed out, a shiver of fear running through him. Gavin tapped lightly at his adam’s apple with the tip of the blade, smiling serenely. “The next time you decide to run your bloody mouth off, maybe think before you speak. Not everyone in this shithole is as forgiving as I am.”

He leaned back, putting his knife away again, and held out a hand- Ryan took it, pulling him upwards to his feet and instantly falling in line with him as they walked back towards the motorcycle. His focus was solely on Gavin, a million questions on his tongue, a feeling of satisfaction settling deep in his gut at the things he’d seen.

A shot echoed past the both of them, Gavin hissing as the bullet grazed just close enough to make a mark on his upper right cheek. They both whirled around to glare at the shooter, still on the ground, his gun shaking in his grip, eyes wide as he started to realize the consequence of his actions.

“Oh, _dammit_ , Jay,” one of his crew members whispered. The other one shook his head solemnly.

“May we borrow your car?” Gavin asked. Ryan cracked his knuckles and approached Jay as Gavin took a set of keys from the others with a tight smile, giving them promises of a new vehicle on it’s way and subtle threats as to _not_ touch the bike. After suitably tying Jay up and dumping him in the trunk, they made sure Mica came along to take care of the rest, Gavin waving at her cheerfully out the window as Ryan started to pull away.

“So,” Ryan started after a minute or so, and saw Gavin grin in the corner of his eye. “Golden boy, huh?”

“I’ve got a sweet tongue and a quick wit,” Gavin hummed, fiddling with the AC. “Geoff needed a frontman.”

“Geoff got a foreign asshole with stupid words and an innate ability to piss of literally everyone he meets. How the fuck have you survived as a frontman?”

A pinch at the side of his neck. “I also have a knack for making people _like_ me, Ryan. Look at you!”

“Look at me, indeed.”

“Besides, I’m good at a lot of things, you know? And I like to talk. Being a frontman gives me a chance to talk more.”

“Why golden, may I ask?”

Gavin started playing with a gold chain around his neck, tugging at it gently. “‘S shiny. Pretty. Easily bendable, easily moldable. Changes well enough into whatever someone needs. It _adapts_ as things go on, you know? I’d like to think I’m good at doin’ stuff like that, yeah?”

“One more question.”

“Mmhmm?”

“If you’re so good at schooling your emotions, the hell was that back there? Actually, two- why do you come back to the penthouse covered in more blood than me after a fucking murder break?”

Gavin smiled at him sharply as they pulled up to the penthouse, their victim pounding against the trunk viciously. “Sometimes there are things you’ve gotta take into your own hands, Ry. No better way to do it then to do it on your own.”

He got out of the car and stretched, pulling his phone from his pocket and nudging Ryan as he came around to open the trunk and drag Jay inside. “Treyco!” he chirped suddenly. “There’s a present in the trunk of the shite Toyota outside for you. I’d have the Vagabond drag it in, but he’s helping me with something. Thanks, love!”

Gavin hung up and grabbed at Ryan’s wrist, tugging him up into the building’s elevator. “Guess what’s streaming on Netflix.”

“What’s streaming on Netflix. I _should_ ask what we’re gonna fall asleep watching on Netflix.”

“Phantom of the Opera.”

“Oh, good, another musical for me to get stuck in my head, great.”

“Most of the songs are duets. Ryan, would you sing duets with me, Ryan?”

“God, no, your singing is atrocious.”

Their bickering continued into Gavin’s room, which Ryan was disturbingly familiar with and ten times more comfortable in than his own. Gavin bounced onto the mattress, patting beside him, and after locking the door Ryan sat down, shrugging his jacket off and placing both it and the mask on the bedside table. Gavin threw one of his legs over Ryan’s and turned the movie on, already humming with the overture as he curled up beside the mercenary.

 

Their awakening was less than pleasant.

Someone was pounding incessantly on Gavin’s door- Jack, by the sounds of her grumbling.

“Would you two _wake up,_ jesus-”

“We’re up, Jack,” Gavin managed to groan out from beneath a pillow, and promptly rolled back over once the pounding stopped and they heard her stomp away from the door.

“What’s got her so worked up?” Gavin said, blearily sitting up. Ryan took a moment to watch him appreciatively when he wasn’t looking, golden hair falling flat in front of his eyes without gel.

“I suppose we’ll find out once we get out of bed, hm?”

Getting out of bed also included fixing hair and finding expensive sunglasses that had somehow miraculously ended up on the other side of the room beneath the wardrobe, so by the time they finally managed their way to the main room, at least twenty minutes had passed. Geoff glanced up the moment the door opened, annoyance clear on his face at how long they’d taken. The sight of Gavin falling out of the chair trying to sit down made him laugh some before he cleared his throat and took a moment to compose both himself and the room.

“So here’s the problem,” he started with a heavy sigh. “We’ve had a very good, very lucky run for a long damn time. But if you wanna back out, now’s a good time.”

There was a heavy silence for a few moments before Jeremy said, “I mean, you’re paying me _not_ to leave and I kind need that money, so.”

Michael choked on his drink and Gavin started giggling. Ryan ducked his head to hide his smile and Jack gave Geoff an eyeroll. The tension in the room lightened considerably as Geoff slumped down into his chair.

“The reason I’m saying that is because there’s someone moving in on Los Santos. On _us_. Got a message from Kovic the other day- apparently, Fakehaus was attacked about a week ago by a _shitton_ of people in Los Angeles. And a couple days ago, Kdin got a hit on one of her safehouses just out of town. Luckily, she wasn’t there, but she told me the place was wrecked.”

“Why’s this different from other crew attacks?” Michael scoffed.

“Because it’s not a crew,” Geoff huffed. “It’s a _mafia_.”

The silence was deafening. Ryan felt Gavin’s hand grip at his arm, impossibly tight. Gently, he reached up and peeled it off, instead taking it in his own hand, squeezing reassuringly. Gavin shifted closer without making too much noise.

“British mafia, actually,” Geoff continued, with a nod to Gavin, who tilted his head. “They’re apparently pretty big? The Free Mafia ring any bells?”

Gavin’s face didn’t betray him- in fact, he only pursed his lips and nodded once, tightly. Geoff took it as a sign of ‘yeah, I know them, they’re trouble’ and continued on. But Ryan knew better. The grip on his hand would more accurately be described as a vice. Any tighter and Gavin might have broken bones. Ryan cast him another wary glance, tugging slightly at his arm. Gavin released him in an instant, looking over at him and smiling apologetically.

“Do you want to talk later?” Ryan whispered.

Gavin took a slow breath before nodding slowly.

The rest of the meeting seemed to drone on even slower than before as Geoff began to plan out precautionary measures and give out jobs to everyone else to prepare for the potential oncoming slaughter fest. Ryan only focused in enough to pay attention to when his name was said, and after, he turned his attention to Gavin. Even with his sunglasses on, it was clear he wasn’t paying much attention either- his head was tilted downwards, towards the tabletop, only nodding slightly anytime someone asked him something. Ryan wondered what it was that had him so shaken. It was so strange to see him like this. The untouchable Golden Boy, so utterly distraught at something.

The second Geoff let them go, Gavin tugged at Ryan’s wrist out towards the elevator. Once the doors shut on them he leant against the wall, taking deep breaths. Ryan pulled off his mask and watched him carefully, warily, concerned about how he was acting.

“Do you ever run away from something and regret it as soon as you do?”

The elevator dinged and Gavin pushed himself off from the wall, going out to stand on the roof. Ryan followed him out. The sun was bright, glinting against Gavin’s sunglasses and earrings- with a start, Ryan realized that was the most he was wearing today, besides his eternal golden chain. For a moment, the two of them stood there, looking over the city in silence. Ryan put a hand on Gavin’s shoulder after a while, and Gavin sighed, pulling his glasses off and rubbing at the bridge of his nose.

“I was born into this whole thing, you know? Bloody raised on violence and taught to rely on lies and knives and other things like that. I was being _groomed_ for my dad and most of the time my only solace from it all was my mum. She protected me a lot of the time, from my dad. From his associates, from the rest of the family. It was alright for a while.”

“Your _family_?”

Gavin shrugged and moved forwards, closer to the edge of the building. “I told Geoff my name was Gavin Gruchy. Borrowed the last name from a friend. Bodyguard of mine, actually. Probably looking for me right now.”

“You aren’t- oh, Gavin, are you...”

“Gavin David Free,” he said shakily. “My father’s name is David Casper Free and he’s currently the head of the mafia that’s ransacking this city trying to find me. It’s kind of ridiculous, honestly, he needs me _so badly_ to take it over for him. He calls me David Junior. It’s so awful.”

“He hired me to find you,” Ryan recalled, vaguely. “It’s how I found the crew, I was looking- looking for you, I found you without even realizing, _god_ \- no, no, don’t look at me like that, I won’t take you back, I swear.”

“God,” Gavin’s hands shook as he gripped at his hair. “I- after mum died, he got _worse_. He was already pretty bad with alcohol, and he just got so, so much more bloody worse. And for a while I avoided him and did what I could and learned to lie better and be better and do everything I could to get out of anything. But once he told me what he wanted me to do- I didn’t _want that_ , I didn’t want to be some big mafia boss. He got _so_ mad, Ryan, so _fucking_ mad, it was terrifying. And he got all red in the face- found a few- there’s a reason I have issues with using rope, really, and with people _smoking._ The smoke is- it’s too much, I couldn’t-”

“Gavin, it’s okay.” He reached out and grabbed at the lad’s arms, pulling at his fingers to try to loosen his balled fists. His sharp manicure had dug tightly into his palms, sharp and deep enough to make him bleed. Ryan took his hands in his, wiping at the blood slowly with his thumbs. Gavin took a shuddering breath.

“I ran. I was _thirteen_ , but I ran. Of course I ran, who wouldn’t run? And everywhere I went he found me. He sent people from home to the states to find me, they went _everywhere_. So I started lying about myself. Used my friend’s name- I knew he wouldn’t betray me- but people always found out, eventually. They got scared. Sometimes they kicked me out, no warning, it was alright. Sometimes, though. Sometimes I wasn’t just let go. They’d hope a bit of roughing up would do something for them, would maybe get them extra money from the mafia, or information for something else. Maybe they were just mad and I was just there. Most of my scars are from that.

“And news travels, Ryan, it spreads like the bloody fucking plague. It was _so_ rare I found someone who let me stay. Before the crew- there was a kid my age, and she was so resigned to it. She knew what was going on. When she found out, she didn’t say a word, didn’t shove me away. She took me and we worked together until we came to Los Santos. And she brought me to Geoff. I’ve been safe for so long, Ryan, I don’t want to get them killed, Ryan, but I don’t want them to kill me, god, please- this is _home_. This is all I wanted, I’ve had it for so long, I just- I can’t-”

Ryan tugged him close, taking him tightly into his arms. Gavin shook with quiet sobs, wrapping his arms around the older man’s chest. The sun was warm on his leather jacket and they stood there for some time, relishing in each other’s company and trust for now. This was Gavin, at his most human, at his most vulnerable. And he’d given everything to Ryan just now. “You’re not leaving us, and you’re not putting us in danger. We do that to ourselves enough. You aren’t leaving us, Gavin. We’ll do everything to keep you with us. _I’ll_ do everything to keep you here.”

Gavin’s breath stuttered and his grip on Ryan’s jacket tightened. “Do I have to tell them?”

“Of course not,” Ryan replied in an instant, and Gavin let out a huge breath of air in relief. “God, no, of course not.”

Gavin pulled away and looked at him, something curious and gentle in his eyes. Ryan smiled and let go, reaching for the glasses on his collar and sliding them onto the bridge of Gavin’s nose. Gavin giggled and tugged on Ryan’s ponytail, mask on, vulnerability gone for the moment.

“Get to work, dickbag.”

“Bite me, Ry.”

“Kinky.”

 

The harbor was really nice after the adrenaline of a heist, the two of them discovered together as the weeks went by.

The first race, so long ago, they’d accidentally lost against Michael, but every other time had been deliberate. Gavin would climb onto the back of Ryan’s motorcycle and grip tight to his waist (it still made Ryan’s pants tighten a bit with how close Gavin sat, but the younger man didn’t need to know that). Gavin’s chin would press against his shoulder and he’d laugh delightedly into Ryan’s ear as they sped down the streets, and then they’d spend hours watching the calm of the waters reflect the light of the moon.

Tonight was different.

Gavin was not clutching at him on the back of a speeding motorcycle. Gavin was gripping at the edge of the couch as Jack knelt in front of him, pulling bits of bullet from his leg carefully, dropping them into a bowl next to her on the floor. Ryan watched from the back of the room, his eyes narrowed dangerously behind his mask. But the second Gavin looked up, they softened. He moved forward- Jack cleaned, bandaged, and shoved everyone out of the room. He took off his glove and reached out gently, knowing full well how Gavin’s eyes were tracking his every move like a hawk behind those glasses. He was impulsive and he wanted it so bad, but leaving his hand there between them left a question-

_Am I allowed to love you?_

Because that was the thing about Gavin. The impossible, beautiful, untouchable Golden Boy. This was a promise, a request, because Gavin was used to admiration, used to adoration, used to anything that had the others laughing and jesting and unafraid to mess with him. To love him like a brother and a son. They gave him trust. He gave them permission. And Ryan had that, but he longed for something more- more than what he had already been given.

There was a heavy moment that hung in the air between them, and then Gavin took his hand and gently pulled it to his cheek, letting all his breath out as the calloused fingers brushed gently on his face.

_Yes._

Ryan was selfish and possessive, and Gavin was petty and childish. Neither of them planned to let go.

He felt lips press against the palm of his hand and ever so slowly he pulled away, moving even closer to pick him up as carefully as possible. Gavin groaned and shifted ever so slightly in his grip and Ryan let him as he carried him down the hall to his room, gently setting him down and dropping his mask before laying beside him. Gavin’s hands curled into the soft cotton of Ryan’s shirt and Ryan turned himself onto his side, watching Gavin quietly as he started to slip into sleep for the night.

It barely took a few minutes, a combination of the events of the day and the pain medication knocking him out right away. Without the danger and excitement of their daily chaos, Gavin was peaceful and gentle in his sleep, something angelic in it. _God above, if there is one_ , Ryan thought to himself, _I do not deserve you._

WIth a kiss to his forehead, Ryan pulled himself closer to Gavin, keeping a hand in his hair to calm himself through the rest of the night.

When they woke the next morning, Gavin had managed to tangle himself even further into Ryan’s arms. The door opening was what alerted him, and he quickly tugged a pillow over his face to keep himself anonymous. Michael’s snickering carried from the doorway.

“What’s so funny?” Ryan mumbled from under the pillow.

“With this new development? I’m finally off babysitting duty.” There was something dark in Michael’s chuckle. “You’re in for a wild fucking ride with him.”

 

Despite Michael’s warning, Gavin was relatively manageable the whole first week of his healing.

They spent most of it lounging in Ryan’s room, playing around on Gavin’s laptop and hacking into random security cameras, keeping an eye on everyone else as they did their respective jobs around the city. When they weren’t doing that, they were watching awful netflix movies and shows with awful actors and Ryan would do awful impressions of said actors to watch Gavin topple sideways into him, giggling uncontrollably. Other nights ended in Gavin sleeping soundly with his head on Ryan’s lap, one of Ryan’s hands lazily petting through his lover’s hair as he read his book.

By far the best way to pass the time was with the door locked and Gavin on his lap as they languidly made out. Gavin was carefully straddled across him, mindful of his leg, soft tanned hands tangling in his hair. Ryan had discarded his mask but there was still paint smeared across his face and Gavin didn’t seem to mind, once or twice pulling away to reposition and showing off the black and white paint traces on his lips. Ryan cupped his jaw and swiped his thumb across a cheekbone, making Gavin shiver and hum happily. Ryan leaned back against the headboard and pulled Gavin forward, his head resting on his shoulder comfortably.

“When you’re all healed, there’s so much I’m gonna do to you,” Ryan murmured into Gavin’s ear, and grinned as the Brit let out a low moan. His own breath caught when Gavin retaliated by grinding his hips downwards, snickering against his shoulder.

“You’d better make good on that promise or I swear-”

“What do you swear, hm?” Ryan bit at the shell of Gavin’s ear, catching a piercing between his teeth and giving a light tug to relish in Gavin’s shudder. “You gonna threaten a mercenary, golden boy? Think you can outdo me?”

“No, sir, Mr. Vagabond,” Gavin said cheekily as he continued to grind downwards. Ryan hummed in approval, reaching up to run his fingers in Gavin’s hair, pressing kisses to the side of his head while Gavin mouthed at his neck.

“I’m serious, though,’ Ryan told him. Gavin made a questioning noise. “We can do this after you heal up more.”

“You’re an awful bloody tease,” Gavin muttered, but licked gently over a mark he’d made. He eventually stopped grinding, settling on resting his chin on Ryan’s shoulder and humming something nonsensical and gentle. They sat there comfortably for a while, relaxing in each other’s warmth while the rest of the crew bustled around out in the front room.

“Hey,” Ryan said after a few minutes, and Gavin nuzzled closer. “I think-”

“You think?” Gavin huffed. “I hoped you would _know_ , at this point. Bastard.” But Ryan could feel him grin, so he smiled in return, taking in the scent of overpriced gel and sweat.

“Did we rush, though?” Ryan asked a few minutes later. Gavin’s hand had slackened the grip on his hair and the weight of him was heavy in his lap. After a few moments without a response, Ryan realized he’d fallen asleep. He gently moved Gavin off of him, careful of his leg, and placed him down in the empty space next to him.

“Because I wanted you so badly. I need you safe. You were everything I could never have. You _are_ everything. You’re the best thing that may ever happen to me. Was it selfish of me to claim you so quickly? To take what I probably don’t deserve?”

Gavin looked deceivingly peaceful in his sleep, his chest rising and falling ever so slightly with every breath. Ryan laid down next to him and tugged the covers over the both of them. He brushed his fingers gently across Gavin’s face, careful not to wake him, and smiled.

“If it was, I can’t find it in myself to be guilty about it.”

 

The mafia moved in closer and closer on the downtown area.

With his leg on the mend, Gavin couldn’t do much but stay near his computers, fingers playing over the keyboard as he kept visuals on the others while they did what they could to defend the area and the other crews. Lindsay had taken over frontman responsibilities for him while he was out.

“It’s the least I can do,” she’d said, ruffling his messy hair. “Keep an eye out for us.”

The sweltering heat of the summer was welcome to most of them. Anyone with a heavy jacket suffered through it, including Ryan and Matt, who ended up defending a small portion of the desert, an airfield, in the middle of July. A smaller ally crew had called them up, begging for help, and the two had arrived in the middle of a firefight between the allies, some trusted mercenaries and another set of rogues.

Matt shed his red hoodie about an hour into the stalemate, tossing it between the cars over to Ryan with a grin as he continued to blindly fire. “Remind me to wash that when we get back!”

“I’m surprised you’re even out here with me,” Ryan said.

“Eh, if I was stuck in the dungeon any longer I’d smell so fucking terrible that Gavin would vomit at the first step in the room.”

“And then Jack would kick your ass,” Ryan helpfully said back, pausing to reload as Matt laughed.

One of the mercenaries to their right fell over, hand pressed against her shoulder with a huff of breath. Another next to her glanced over- there was a moment of silent communication between them before one shook his head.

“You’re fucked up enough, go sit your ass in the car. Be there in a second,” he said, shoving gently at his injured friend. She tossed her gun in Ryan’s direction, giving him a mocking salute before taking a wild sprint towards the car near the end of the airfield. The guy scoffed.

“Siblings never fucking listen,” he nodded once, and suddenly Ryan could see the similarities in the two. They were both wearing masks, maybe, but the way they acted and moved were so alike he wondered why he hadn’t noticed before.

“Twins?” Matt asked, shooting without looking.

“Yup. Take care of the gun, please, she meant it to be a gift. I gotta take care of her.” He glanced above their cover, hoping for a break, and then dashed off towards where the other was waiting. The car peeled away and the two of them watched it go.

Ryan glanced down at the gun in his hand. It was engraved with an intricate golden inlay that glinted gently in the sun- _Gavin would love this_ , he thought to himself, before cocking it and firing again. Someone across the way yelled in pain and Ryan grinned under his mask.

“How many more, do you think?”

“Five, maybe six. Easy. You could head out, if you wanted,” Ryan called over. Matt rolled his eyes.

“Nah man, no need. Why split up?”

“Alright.”

Another few shots were exchanged between the groups- another few mercenaries had gone down on both sides as sleek black cars started pulling up. Ryan watched them warily as they drove right past and pulled into the middle of the field. Matt took a shot and huffed. “Bulletproof.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t doubt it. No one just _comes_ into a fight like that unless they’re protected.”

A car door opened and they both ducked behind cover, guns cocked and ready. Matt shifted uneasily and pushed the glasses up his nose. There was an eerie beat of silence.

“If you gentlemen could kindly lower your weapons for a moment, we’ve have some things we’d like to discuss with you.”

Distinctly british. Matt scoffed loudly and shuffled again. Ryan rolled his eyes, but something was creeping up his spine. “I don’t think we do,” Matt called.

“Are you in association with someone by the name of David Free?”

Ryan froze up slightly. Matt noticed. “Afraid not, actually.”

The sound of a _lot_ more guns being cocked made both of them tense up. “I don’t really appreciate being _lied_ to. Please stand, gentlemen, guns away.”

Reluctantly, they both stood, tucking their guns away. What basically was an army greeted them- a few rows of people in suits, varying guns pointed all in their direction. At the front stood a younger person, no more than five feet tall, a gentle smile on their face. “I’m sorry for all the inconveniencing,” they hummed. “But things have to happen in certain ways, or people that don’t need to get hurt do. So I’m going to ask you again.”

They tilted their head to the side and met Ryan’s eyes. “Are you in association with a young man named David Free?”

“I’ve only heard of him because of you,” Matt said, and the stranger glanced over to him. “That your mafia’s looking for him for whatever reason.”

“Well, yes,” they said. “He’s very necessary. And, unfortunately for you, there have been reports of him with your crew.”

“I don’t think I know what you mean.”

“No?” they asked, with a pout of their lips. “It’s a shame you don’t. Like I said, I didn’t need anyone to get hurt unnecessarily.”

Matt stepped back warily, and Ryan’s hand twitched for his gun. There was an unsettling moment where Ryan’s heart was pounding too loudly. He wondered if anyone else could hear it.

The leader sighed. “When you see Mr. Free, let him understand that _this_ is a warning.”

“That- that _what’s_ a warning?” Matt started. And then he cried out, crumpling downwards, and it took Ryan a moment to register the shot that had echoed through the airfield. The mafia members started to disperse as Ryan immediately made his way to Matt, kneeling next to him and watching him carefully.

He’d very clearly been shot in the knee, red pouring from the wound and staining onto the sand. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,” Matt gasped, moving his hand around his leg without touching it.

“Your patella’s busted.”

“My fucking _what_.”

“Your kneecap, dipshit, your kneecap has been shot and fucking shattered.”

Matt started snickering to himself, gasping every few seconds through his pain while Ryan started patting himself down for his phone. When he finally found it, reaching to dial Jack’s number, Matt was staring up at him with a shit-eating grin despite the tears in his eyes.

“What?”

“I used to be a criminal-”

“I’m gonna make this so much worse for you if you finish that fucking sentence.”

After a phone call and a pickup and a shitton of anesthetic Matt ended up in Caleb’s ward, completely delirious and _completely_ out of commission.

“It’ll take him at least two months to recover from surgery, but then there’s physical therapy and rehab he’s got to go through to make sure his leg is still gonna work correctly. If not, Geoff- it might be a good thing he’s meant to stay out of the field, because if it doesn’t heal right, he won’t be able to do much of anything anymore.”

The crew fell into an uneasy silence at the news, Geoff’s fists gripping tightly at the back of the couch. Jack’s fist was to her mouth, taking shaky breaths, and Michael paced frustrated behind them while Jeremy held his face in his hands. Ryan went to glance at Gavin, just to check, but just as he did Gavin stood with his hands clenched tight against his crutches and forced out a steady _excuse me_.

Ryan didn’t bother with niceties. He followed.

He slipped into Gavin’s room and closed the door behind him, clicking the lock and slipping off his mask before turning.

Gavin was lying on his back, shirt unbuttoned but not completely taken off as he took unsteady breaths. He was whispering and mumbling to himself, fingers clenching and unclenching on the sheets, and as Ryan stepped forward he jerked and stared, sunglasses gone.

“It’s my fault-”

“Don’t,” Ryan said, sitting on the bed and running a hand through Gavin’s hair. “You can’t do that to yourself.”

“But it _is,_ ” Gavin insisted, shaking under Ryan’s touch. “They were looking for me, and they shot Matt because of it-”

“They shot him for looking for David Free, not Gavin.”

“Is there honestly a difference?” Gavin mumbled. “A spoiled rich piece of shit who just gets people hurt.”

There was a steady pause as Gavin slowly relaxed, his panic fading into nothing but quick inhales that kept breaking the silence. Eventually Ryan shifted the both of them so that Gavin’s head was resting on his chest, his leg gently left on Ryan’s as they laid together on the bed, the light in the window fading slowly.

“I never knew David Free,” he started, and Gavin’s hand gripped at his shirt but the lad said nothing. “I don’t know anything about him, other than he got a lot of _shit_ for a life and maybe if I knew him, I’d try hard to help. But I know _you_. I know Gavin. Gavin is ridiculous and funny and he loves his crew like he lives- with absolutely no hesitation or thought. They are _not_ looking for you and this is in no possible way your fault.”

The man against his chest didn’t respond, but buried his head further into Ryan’s chest and took deep breaths. Ryan continued to brush his hand gently through Gavin’s hair, humming quietly.

“I promise everything is fine. We will get control of this and we are _not_ going to get rid of you. I’m not losing you.”

Gavin hummed happily against his chest, breaths finally evening out as he drifted off, worries temporarily sated for the time. Ryan pressed a kiss to his forehead, and closed his eyes.

Gavin shifted once and Ryan blinked, glancing to the alarm on the side table. It was almost two in the morning, now, and Ryan simply assumed he’d fallen asleep.

"What I don't get," Gavin suddenly said sleepily into the dark silence, "is why people insist on confessing their love just before they die."

"Oh?" Ryan said, deciding to amuse him. "What's so wrong with that?"

"Wouldn't it be easier to say nothing at all? Or to make them think they hated them all along?"

"I don't think so."

"Are you sure?" Gavin asked, suddenly very serious, and when Ryan looked down Gavin's eyes were sharper than ever. "If I told you I loved you just before I died, wouldn't you be upset? Wouldn't you be ruined?"

"I suppose, but-"

"But if I told you I hated you before I died, that it was all a lie, that I'd played you for a fool, I'd never loved you- couldn't that soften the blow, a bit?"

"I'd be pissed as hell. I'd hate you more than anything."

"Exactly," Gavin said, quietly, seemingly drifting off again. "And isn't that easier to hate someone you'll never see than to love someone you'll never hold?"

Ryan couldn’t figure out a sufficient answer to that.

 

Even when Gavin’s cast came off, Matt’s injury weighed heavy on each of them, as much as they tried their best not to let it. A lot of deals went poorly, resulting in a lot more cleanup than usual- mostly due to Gavin’s heightened paranoia. The constant presence of the mafia had him a lot more jittery than usual, with dangerous consequence.

Geoff had long since discovered their relationship, though, and he’d thrown a few not so subtle _glares_ in Ryan’s direction. Meetings between the crew had grown cold and awkward due to their messing member as well as the atmosphere between the two. So eventually Ryan just insisted they were left alone in the meeting room and the others complied, shuffling out the door. Gavin gave him a confused glance and Ryan grasped his hand reassuringly, pressing a kiss to his knuckles through the mask eliciting a giggle.

“Go on then,” Ryan huffed, and Gavin pulled away, smiling, and made his way through the door.

Ryan turned back to Geoff and winced a little at the level glare his boss was giving him. Geoff cleared his throat and steepled his fingers together in front of him, closing his eyes.

“Ryan. Bud. Pal.”

“I’m not sure I like where this is going.”

“Don’t interrupt me,” Geoff huffed, opening his eyes again and reaching over to pour himself a glass of whiskey. “Look. Things are pretty fucking terrible right now, I’m not gonna lie, with this whole mafia thing and all. We all need a little distraction, I get it. I’m glad you and Gavin have each other as distractions. But here’s the thing-”

Geoff’s tired eyes sharpened suddenly and he slammed the glass down on the table, grabbing Ryan’s collar from across the desk and tugging him forward to meet him. “If you’re fucking with him- if you’re taking advantage of him, using him as _leverage_ , there’s going to be a problem. And not a ‘you’re fired’ problem. It’s gonna be a torture problem. Anything you’ve done for us for traitors and enemies will pale in comparison to the shit I’ll do to you. Do you understand?”

After Ryan gave a jerky nod, Geoff let him go and they both sat backwards, Ryan slumping down into the chair and catching his breath. Geoff reached over and grabbed his glass, taking another drink of whiskey.

“I don’t know what he’s told you,” came after a minute of silence. Ryan looked up and Geoff shook his head. “But that kid- Gavin’s my son. You _know_ that.”

“I do,” Ryan said, his voice shaken. “And I know that-” He cut himself off before saying anything else. Geoff gave him a confused look. Ryan shook his head, glancing away. _You’re the father he deserved._

Geoff stared at him for another few moments before waving his hand. “Get outta here. You’ve got bodyguard duty, Gav’s got a couple deals to sort out now that he’s on his feet again.”

Ryan shifted in his seat and stood, awkwardly shuffling towards the door. Geoff poured himself more whiskey.

As the door clicked behind him, Ryan thought to himself. It wasn’t just Geoff’s threats that had him sufficiently put into place- although that was definitely part of it. No, most of his fear stemmed from the amount of pain it would cause him to lose Gavin. To lose _any_ of this crew.

_Well, shit, Haywood. You’ve gone and gotten attached._

Jeremy grabbed him by the arm as he left the hallway, tugging him towards the elevator insistently with a huge smile on his face. “We’re going to another deal with Gavin,” he explained, and pushed Ryan in before him.

“Crowd control?”

“Somethin’ like that.” He scratched the back of his neck, and Ryan’s eyes were drawn to the movement. His fingers were purple.

“Oh, god, did you dye your hair again?”

“Might’ve,” Jeremy grinned up at him. “Gotta keep the brand alive.”

“What _brand?_ ”

“Rimmy Tim!”

Ryan scoffed. “I thought you said silver!”

“Silver... didn’t work with the red.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

The elevator dinged and the doors opened into the garage. “Hey, how pissed would Gav be if we dyed his hair bright pink as a prank?”

“I’d make it work,” the man in questioned answered, and they turned to see him lounging against Ryan’s Banshee. “I always do.”

“Yeah, but _hot pink_ , Gavin.”

“He could make it work,” Ryan agreed, going around his car and sliding into the driver’s seat. Gavin hopped into the passenger side and Jeremy made of noise of offense.

“First of all, you’re his boyfriend, you have to take his side. Second of all, where the fuck am I supposed to sit?”

“You’ll have to take a bike, Lil J! It won’t be bad, promise,” Gavin said. “We’re just going to a little bar down the street.”

“Thought you said it was a deal?”

“Well, yeah, always.”

“Why a bar, then? Why _that_ bar?”

“‘S a favorite of mine. They know me pretty well.” He reached over and tapped the back of Jeremy’s hand, smiling blindingly. “Besides, they give me free drinks.”

“You’re not getting drunk on a deal,” Ryan cut in, exasperated. Jeremy pulled away as the car started, going off towards the corner of the garage where they stored bikes. Gavin giggled and kicked his feet up onto the dashboard as the garage door open and they pulled out.

“No, of course not. It’s just a cheeky bonus to the place,” Gavin explained, reaching over towards the radio and starting to fiddle around. Ryan smacked his hand away and pressed a button to make the top go down.

Saying the bar was down the street had been a small lie. It was more or less across the city, sitting at the edge in a more dangerous than usual area of the city. It was a seedy little place, buried in an alleyway, disguised by the fact that the building was supposed to be an apartment complex. It was only two stories tall, gently nestled between two taller and larger buildings, and the sign above the door said Constellum. A sign _on_ the door said ‘closed’, but Gavin knocked cheerfully on the door and whistled while he waited.

Jeremy joined them just before the lock on the door clicked and a person with blue hair and glasses opened it. They looked the three of them over for a moment before smiling serenely at Gavin.

“She didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?” Gavin asked, and Ryan saw Jeremy shift his weight a bit threateningly, just in case.

“Last minute call. The whole mafia business is fucking with her contacts on the edges of the city, she couldn’t get what you needed in time. Guess she was trying to stall or something, I know she wanted to get in contact with a couple Fakehaus members too, but they’re all getting stuck down there.”

Gavin said something in Italian, presumably a swear, and then smiled tiredly up at the other person. “Can you tell her to call me when she gets back?”

“Yeah, of course. Should be tomorrow, but I’ll tell you anyways.”

“Thanks, Andromeda.”

“No problem, dude.”

The door shut and Gavin huffed, turning to both Ryan and Jeremy. “A big waste of time, lads, sorry- unless you wanna go meet up with someone else, while we’re waiting? You have any errands?”

Jeremy kicked at the ground distractedly. “We have that sort of heist coming up. Could go for some weapons at Ammu-Nation, grab supplies for Michael-”

“You can grab supplies for Michael, he’s being a right bastard to me right now and the guy he gets his stuff from is also a bastard that I’d rather bloody not deal with right now,” Gavin said. Jeremy laughed but nodded, giving a mock salute to Ryan before turning and going down the alley towards where he’d parked the bike. Ryan stuffed his hands in his pockets and raised an eyebrow at Gavin- not like he could see it, through his mask, but Gavin scoffed and pulled at Ryan’s arm.

“I do have other _deals_ ,” he said passively. “This one was just more important. We can go talk with Barbara instead, she’s been messing around with a few mercenaries lately and Geoff said he wanted extra guns on the base.”

“Of course he did,” Ryan said, allowing himself to be pulled along towards the car.

 

Barbara, as it seemed, was a lot more occupied with other circumstances.

“Gavin. They’re _everywhere_ , a lot of my hires are a lot more concerned about themselves than they are getting money at this point.”

“That makes no sense!” Gavin exclaimed. “Why become a mercenary, then? They’re all terrible and would get the crew bloody killed!”

“...shit,” Barbara mumbled. “Wow, ok, yeah, those guys are assholes.”

Gavin rubbed at his forehead and sighed. “Babs, Geoff _needs_ those mercs. There was an incident with the mafia recently and we can’t have anything else happen.”

“I’ll do what I can,” she said. “But like you said, this mafia is messing everything up. It’s driving people away, hitting everyone that’s connected to the guy they’re looking for. Which is nearly impossible because _none of us know him_. It’s ridiculous.”

Gavin gave a hiss of laughter that Ryan recognized as nervous and unsteady. He grasped his upper arm reassuringly. Gavin reached up and placed his hand on Ryan’s.

Barbara stared slightly for a few moments before shaking her head and huffing. “I’ll try to get in touch with Burnie. I could ask him to find a couple people willing to stay with you guys while you deal with it.”

“If it’s Burnie you needn’t bloody bother,” Gavin laughed. “I’ll call him up as soon as I get back to the penthouse. He can’t resist me.”

“Careful,” Barbara said. “People might think you’ve seduced him.”

“Yes, _me_ , master of seduction, with the former leader of the Cockbytes. Absolutely.”

The two blinked at each other seriously before breaking into laughter. Gavin’s breathless giggles faded off after a few seconds- he clapped her on the shoulder and sighed. “Until then though, is there anyone you can spare us? Literally anyone.”

“Did you check-”

“I did. Can’t help.”

Barbara huffed again, pursing her lips in thought. “I know for a fact that Mica Burton wants to meet you guys, and she’s a hell of a hitman. Kdin might be available for a little while, too- the Know’s been pretty quiet lately, and you guys have worked with her before. Couple of others, maybe. I’ll send the ones we can up to your penthouse as soon as possible, hopefully without any incidents on the way there.”

“You’re the _best,_ Barbara,” Gavin chirped, hugging her tightly. She waved him off with a smile as he grabbed Ryan’s hand and tugged him out the office door into the main area of the building.

“There’s a few,” Ryan quietly remarked as they stepped out of the offices onto the street.

“A few, yeah. Geoff was goin’ for more, I suppose, but there’s only so much I can do when _everyone_ is after me.”

“He doesn’t know,” Ryan placated gently. “You can’t blame him for that if you won’t tell him.”

“It’s to keep him-”

“Safe, I know.” They reached the Banshee and climbed in, but Ryan stopped before driving off, placing his hand on Gavin’s. “But if it ever comes to it, Gavin, I do think you should tell someone.”

“I told _you_ ,” Gavin said in a hushed tone, and Ryan chuckled as he turned on the car.

“Well. I can’t argue that. But I’m not the best option to help you- to get this out, to discuss this with. Gavin, you love Geoff like-”

“I know! I know,” Gavin interrupted. “But I just- can’t. I can’t do that to him, I can’t make him carry that for me, he has so much to worry about when it comes to me anyways.”

He kicked his feet up onto the dashboard and made the seat recline as far back as it would go, effectively signalling the end of the conversation. Ryan hummed. “Any destination in mind now, your highness?”

“The harbor. Or a rooftop.”

“The sea or the sky, huh?”

Gavin laughed in agreement, and when Ryan glanced over, the sun was glinting off of his sunglasses and the wind was ruffling the bangs of his hair, and Ryan had never been so sure he was in love.

 

The water crashed gently against the concrete wall that served as their shore.

Gavin had his head in Ryan’s lap, laying sideways, his arm outstretched towards the sunset, humming a nonsensical tune to himself as his fingers traced random patterns in the fading sunlight. Ryan pet gently through his hair, feeling the slight stickiness from the product Gavin always used.

The calm of the waters made everything fade, for a while. They relaxed in each other’s presence, with nothing but their breaths between them, the waves and birds a background noise for them and their thoughts.

“Would you rather drown or fall?” Gavin said, after a while. Ryan laughed softly as he turned it over in his head.

“Drowning seems slower. Your lungs have to fill with water, you choke into unconsciousness...”

“Morbid, innit? But if you were already unconscious, would you even know? Because when you’re falling, you have more time to-”

“Think, yeah. Would you, though?”

“Trust me, you do.”

“Parachuting doesn’t count.”

“Who said I was parachuting? I don’t always have them, you know.”

“How have you lived all these fucking years?”

“Self preservation is a lot stronger than most people think, Ryebread.”

“How far have you gone?”

Gavin paused for a moment, and Ryan realized he’d asked a question with a lot more meaning behind it than he’d intended.

“From London to here. Probably going to keep going more and more.”

“They’ll give up soon.”

“Will they? It’s been years, Ryan. They’re still here and I-”

He swallowed and dropped his hand, blinking slowly behind his sunglasses.

“I’m scared,” Gavin whispered into the air, and Ryan let that hang for a while, to give Gavin a chance to continue and elaborate. He didn’t expect him to. As close as they’d become, there were still things that were hard to admit to each other because it was hard to admit it to themselves. So when Gavin kept silent, Ryan did what he could.

“I know.”

 

[ Received: 10:40 PM ] : Mr. Dooley.

[ Sent: 10:42 PM ] : who is this?

[ Received: 10:43 PM ] : No one of important consequence.

[ Received: 10:44 PM ] : We have an offer to make.

[ Sent: 10:46 PM ] : sorry i’m not really one to make offers with random numbers

[ Received: 10:48 PM ] : I think you’ll find this offer to be non negotiable.

[ Sent: 10:49 PM ] : what the fresh fucking hell does that mean

[ Received: 10:50 PM ] : This is concerning a crew member of yours. We need an incentive.

[ Sent: 10:51 PM ] : an incentive???

[ Sent: 10:51 PM ] : who the fuck is this about???

[ Sent: 10:51 PM ] : oh, fuck

[ Sent: 10:51 PM ] : oh, you’re those mafia fucks oh, fuck

[ Sent: 10:52 PM ] : look we’ve fucking explained to you guys that we don’t fucking know any ‘free’ kid

[ Sent: 10:52 PM ] : and i know the rest of the crew would agree that even if we did

[ Sent: 10:52 PM ] : we wouldn’t sell him out for _anything_ you have to offer

[ Received: 10:55 PM ] : Mr. Dooley, forgive us. There has been a misunderstanding.

[ Received: 10:55 PM ] : Perhaps we have been unclear.

[ Received: 10:56 PM ] : This offer is not meant for you.

[ Sent: 10:57 PM ] : what

[ Received: 10:58 PM ] : You are the incentive.

 

Gavin leant against Ryan as they made their way back towards the car. The breeze picked up as they went and Ryan felt Gavin shiver against him. Each step echoed on the walls surrounding the area, almost ominously, and if neither of them were hardened criminals they might have jumped at the sight of a silhouette leaning against their ride.

As it were, Gavin’s breath hitched in Ryan’s ear, and Ryan tensed, reaching for his gun, before there was a flash of lightning in the distance and they recognized the cowboy hat on Jeremy’s head.

“Hell, guys,” Jeremy laughed. “Don’t make a guy wait out in the rain!”

“Not rainin’ yet, J,” Gavin hummed in the usual tone of his.

“Sure as shit gonna,” the brawler said, pointing upwards.

“You get supplies for Michael?”

“You left me with a bike. He wants two rocket launchers and a new minigun.”

“Can’t get that at Ammu-Nation anyways,” Ryan said. “Where is the bike anyways?”

Jeremy made a guilty face and busied himself with his phone when the screen lit up in his pocket. The two of them laughed, and gestured for him to get in the middle between the seats. He did, sitting above them on where the roof was meant to be raised. Gavin shoved his leg out of the way and sat down and Ryan started the Banshee up and turned the windshield wipers on as the rain began to fall.

“Who’re you texting, Jeremy?”

“Not sure. Probably a wrong number,” the brawler replied distractedly.

“Gotta be careful with those,” Gavin hummed. “Can end pretty terribly, just tell me if you’ll need a replacement phone, yeah?” Jeremy grunted in agreement, immersed in a different conversation. Ryan shared an amused glance with Gavin as they pulled up to a stoplight. Better not to get caught tonight for _speeding_. At this point, they just wanted to get home in time to prepare for the upcoming heist.

They made it a block or two in a comfortable silence before Jeremy whispered, “What the fuck?”

Ryan turned to ask what was wrong and stiffened immediately.

“Jeremy!” he shouted, jolting Gavin from his sleepy state. “ _MOVE!_ ”

Gavin turned in time as lightning flashed to see it illuminate the figure of someone holding a rifle on a building barely a block away. Alert and panicked, he grabbed Jeremy’s right arm and _pulled_ , hoping to keep him from being a bigger target. It worked- Jeremy fell closer down towards him, but it threw his left shoulder up as he was thrown off balance, and a shot rang out in the streets like a crack of thunder.

Gavin froze when Jeremy cried out at the same time.

_“Fuck_ ,” Ryan hissed, slamming on the gas and peeling away towards the nearest safehouse. “Fuck, fuck! Gavin, is Jeremy-”

“I’m good- _dammit-_ they got a damn good shot on my shoulder but it could have been a helluva lot worse. Thanks, Gav,” Jeremy huffed, his hand pressed to the wound.

The words passed through him like wind in leaves because all Gavin could focus on was the blood, the fucking red seeping between Lil J’s fingers, and he finally managed to ask, “Do you know...?”

“Those mafia fucks. They were the ones texting me- called this a fucking _offer_.”

Gavin’s heart stopped in his throat and he felt Ryan’s eyes on him.

“Jeremy,” came Ryan’s voice, distantly. “I’ll help you care for the wound when we get back. Gavin’ll contact the others, tell them what happened. We’ll go back to the penthouse when we’re clear and you’re more stable.”

“Sounds fine to me.”

Gavin knew Ryan was looking to him for confirmation, so he nodded, once, and tried to get control over himself until they were alone.

 

When Jeremy was completely fixed up and Caleb had picked him up to work on his shoulder in a more stable place, Ryan sought out Gavin.

The lad had hovered for a bit before disappearing when Jeremy assured him he was fine- visibly trying not to shake, Ryan had noticed. So as the door closed and he’d finished cleaning traces of blood from the kitchen counter, he made his way towards the back bedroom and slowly opened the door.

Gavin was sitting on the bed, curled up into himself as far as possible, palms pressing into his eyes as he took shuddering breaths.

“Gavin,” Ryan whispered. “Deep breaths, Gavin.”

He sat on the bed next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and rubbing gently. Gavin leaned into him and opted to bury his face in his shoulder, clinging tightly. Ryan continued to rub his shoulder and the middle of his back while he continued to shudder and sob.

“I can’t- can’t _stop_ this-” Gavin hiccuped. “I can’t stop anything, there’s nothing-”

“Don’t blame yourself for this, Gavin.”

“How can I _not_?” he asked, pushing away. His eyes were red rimmed and puffy and he looked exhausted, wasted. A complete mess. “For _months_ , I’ve been worrying, Ryan, I’ve been paranoid and full of anxiety because this is _my fault_. They are looking for _me_. And they will go through this entire _crew_ , Ryan, they won’t hesitate to kill any of you.”

“They didn’t kill Matt, they shot Jeremy in the shoulder, it’s not-”

Gavin shoved something bright in his face. It took Ryan a second to realize it was Jeremy’s phone, showing a recent text message conversation. He went to read it while Gavin took shaking breaths, and gave a heavy sigh when he put the phone down.

“Incentive, Ryan,” Gavin cried. “They were going to kill Jeremy for _incentive_. They _don’t care_. This is the family I was raised to live in, raised to take over- this is what they wanted for me, Ryan, and I _can’t do that_.”

“Gavin-”

“But I can’t let this keep happening, Ryan, I can’t let you die, oh, god, what am I supposed to do-”

His breath hitched again and he fell forwards into Ryan’s chest, shaking. Ryan pressed a kiss to his hair and pulled him onto his lap, rocking them slowly. He gripped Gavin tightly and racked his brain for anything to say to comfort, to console, to reassure him.

The man he was holding- the beautiful, wonderful lad, with all his stupid and all his smart, everything he was- what was Ryan supposed to say? How could he help someone usually so in control with a problem that resorted him to such a state of distress?

“I can’t say it’s okay. I know I can’t because I know it isn’t. But listen to me-”

He pulled Gavin away and cradled his face in his hands, wiping away the tears from his cheeks. “No one in this crew would hesitate to protect you. Everyone adores you, Gavin, you have them all wrapped around your pinkie finger. You know that.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Gavin whispered, turning his head into Ryan’s palm and pressing a kiss there. He placed his own hand over Ryan’s. “I don’t want you protecting me- I don’t want them getting _hurt_.”

“Getting hurt is part of the job.”

“But-”

“No, don’t argue with me here. If you need to, tell the crew. No one is going to turn against you, no one’s going to sell you out. We will do whatever we can to keep you safe.”

“I can’t tell them, I can’t- I don’t want you to _die_ for me,” Gavin said, gripping tighter at Ryan’s hand. “If we die, we go out like we should. Not like this, not because I’m a selfish ass-”

“Shh, shh, Gavin. Gavin. No one will die. We’ll figure it out.”

He pulled Gavin closer and took deep breaths, waiting until he could feel Gavin do the same. He laid them both down on the bed and held him as close as possible.

“I love you, you know.”

Gavin hummed softly against his chest. “I love you, too.”

They drifted off together into an uneasy sleep, Gavin shivering in Ryan’s arms.

 

A day later the crew was together again, in the planning room, sans Jeremy.

Gavin was quiet, not messing around as per usual for him, but the rest of them seemed to have figured that seeing Jeremy get shot had put a terrible damper on his spirits, and left well enough alone.

“So,” Geoff started. “It seems this issue is worse than we thought.”

“No fucking kidding, Geoff,” Michael growled. “I don’t know who the fuck David Free thinks he is but if he is _anywhere_ in this crew he needs to go.”

“Michael,” Jack admonished. “You can’t just say that, what if it’s someone we’re close to? What if it’s a member of the support crew?”

“Then they’re an asshole for not fucking telling us first! They’re even _more_ of an asshole for keeping quiet through all this shit, too. They’re getting members of the crew fucked!”

“Maybe they have a reason for keeping it hidden,” Ryan calmly explained, hyperaware of how Gavin had gone stiff and was looking at his best friend, wide-eyed. “What would a mafia be after someone for? They could be hiding with us in the hopes that we’ll have the firepower and the ability to clear the mess up.”

“They’re relying on us to clean _their_ mess up, fucking real good reason! Yeah, sure, your buddies at the mafia hunting you down? Come on over, we’ll take care of you, no problem, let us just get _fucking shot_ first! I don’t know who this dick thinks they are but it isn’t going well for them!”

“That’s probably the other reason that they’re hiding,” Ryan ground out. “Because of opinions like _that._ Because they have nowhere else to _go._ ”

“That shouldn’t be our fucking problem!” Michael yelled, and was about to say more. But Geoff slammed his hand down on the table, grabbing all of their attention.

“Michael, shut the fuck up. You’re just being pissy, so fucking quit it until you can think _rationally_ about this situation.” Michael huffed but stayed quiet otherwise, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “Thanks. Now, we’re going to need more hands, of course- Gavin said earlier we have someone with contacts down south, but she’s not getting back until tomorrow. We’re stretched thin and we need _all_ the help we can get. So here’s what I’m asking you to do...”

Geoff continued to explain, but again, Ryan tuned him out. The scene around him was startlingly familiar- save missing a crew member. But Gavin’s hands were balled into tight fists, his nails short and sharp and pressing into his skin, and Ryan felt a cold fear wash over him.

“Ryan, I need you to-”

“That’s great, can I talk with Gavin for a moment, good, bye.”

He quickly got up and tugged Gavin from his seat, ignoring Geoff’s sputtering protests and Michael’s snickering behind them. Gavin stumbled slightly before following.

“I told you,” he whispered. “I can’t tell them, they’ll kick me out, I _can’t_ -”

“Shhh, shh, Gavin, they _wouldn’t_. Michael only said that because he was pissed off. He’s your best friend, and you _know_ that if he knew it was you, he’d do anything to help.”

Gavin didn’t respond, and Ryan grabbed his hands and peeled his fingers back from his palm. “If anything, know this- I will never leave you. I will _never_ let you go alone, anymore.”

He pressed a gentle kiss to Gavin’s palms. “I have one job, tonight, and then any other jobs I take will be with you. After this it’s _us_ , and nothing is going to stop that. We’ll fucking burn this city down, if that’s the answer.”

Gavin gave him a soft laugh, seeming calmer and reassured.

“I’ll even stay home from tonights job, if you want me to,” Ryan said.

“No, no, it’s fine,” Gavin told him. “Go on and do your work. I’ll be okay.”

“You sure?”

“Absolutely.” Nothing about Gavin’s voice or posture told Ryan otherwise, so he pressed a kiss to Gavin’s forehead.

“Take a rest. I’ll see you when I get back, darling.”

“I love you,” Gavin said quietly.

“I love you too,” Ryan murmured. He let Gavin’s hand slide out of his as the lad made his way down the hall to his room.

_He’ll be fine_ , he thought to himself, rubbing his face tiredly. He heard Geoff calling for him and stood, rolling his neck and grabbing his bag near the door, and then made his way towards the elevator.

 

Michael ended up in front of Gavin’s room at about one in the morning.

Earlier during the meaning, he’d lashed out and said a lot of stupid shit. He’d been angry, and frustrated, because it’s not something you like going through, losing two crew members in so little time. The only thing he could be grateful for was that neither of them were dead. Still- his anger had gotten the better of him, and only later had he realized how upset Gavin had been.

For a while, actually, Gavin had been off kilter. Since the mafia had started coming into the city. And most of them had brushed it off as various things- Jack had seemed to think that it was him realizing he felt something for Ryan, and all his shiftiness had been stemming from a crush. Michael hadn’t been sure himself, but the things he’d said in the meeting, and the way Gavin had reacted, made him think otherwise.

Maybe Gavin was running from something himself. Maybe someone in particular. Maybe he’d stupidly snuck himself into the mafia for a job and gotten caught, maybe it had nothing to do with the mafia at all. Despite whatever it was, he’d upset his friend.

So he stood in front of the closed door and coughed, quietly, unsure if he could intrude.

“Hey, Gav. Um. Can I come in?”

There was no response, but Gavin wasn’t usually asleep at this time of night. So Michael cleared his throat and waited.

“Look, dude,” he said a minute later, after it was still quiet. “I wanted to apologize about what I said in the meeting. I didn’t mean to like, get you fucked up and sad and shit. And I came to say sorry but you won’t fuckin’ open the _door_ , come on, man!”

This time, when Gavin didn’t answer, Michael _knew_ something was up.

He tested the handle and found it was unlocked, so he slowly pushed open the door and glanced warily around the room. “Gav?”

It was empty. The bed was neatly made, the closet shut and the bathroom too. All of the personal effects Gavin had were still in place, but it was like it was no one _actually_ lived there, save for the trash can, still overflowing with junk food wrappers and red bull cans. It was eerily quiet. Five pieces of paper were folded neatly on the side table and Michael edged closer, his fingers tracing across the names on each- and then it finally registered in his mind. With a sudden trembling hand he slammed the door back open again and called out, desperate and fearful. _“GEOFF!”_

 

 

Ryan held the note so tightly in his hand that it might have torn if he wasn’t actively trying to keep it from doing so. There was nothing special about it- nothing outstanding, no hidden message- just a few simple sentences scrawled out in Gavin’s shaking handwriting.

He didn’t know what anyone else’s said. He wasn’t sure he wanted to. At this point, the others had dispersed out of Gavin’s room. It’d been about a half an hour since they’d realized he was gone, and now Michael and Geoff were discussing just outside of the door. Ryan couldn’t make himself get up and leave.

“...but can he just _leave_ like this?” Michael’s voice started getting louder, more agitated. “Like, can he just get up and _go_?”

“Gavin’s a grown man, Michael, he can do whatever he want. He’ll come back.”

“Did you even _read the fucking note_ he left you? He left _me_?”

“Michael, we all make stupid decisions under pressure-”

“Okay, yes, sure. But this is _Gavin_. The way he fucking put this shit it’s like he was planning on _dying_. Geoff, something’s not right! And you _know_ that!”

There was a heavy pause until Geoff said, “I do. I do know that. I know something’s up, something’s _been_ up. I don’t know what to do about it. How do I do anything if he won’t come to me, you know? He’ll come home.”

Ryan listened to Michael scoff and stomp away, but continued listening for Geoff. After a few moments, there was a, “come home, buddy” and then footsteps leading away.

Ryan looked down at the letter again.

_I love you,_ it seemed to mock. _Love you._

Ryan went to crumple it up and toss it, but paused, and then folded it, tucking it away into his chest pocket. It weighed heavily there like the warmth of a fire, burning through him and searing his memory.

 

No one really seemed to make the connection as the mafia streamed out of the city.

There were a few incidents, here and there, but it seemed that even though they had what’d they came for, Gavin was covering for himself in some way- asking for them to keep asking for him. Geoff kept trying to keep a balance on his crew, going so far as pulling Trevor and Lindsay into a higher position, having them take separate sections of the crew as he tried to manage the allies and city.

In the mess of management, heists and jobs were put on hold. Michael started taking long drives that lasted hours, at first, and then days. No one knew where he was going until Jeremy approached him and came back a few hours later to the gents explaining the reasoning behind it.

“He thinks it’s his fault,” Jeremy mumbled. “That he left. He’s looking for him, trying to apologize.”

No one deliberately told him to stop, but he did stop, eventually. There’s only so far he could have gone to look and so far Gavin could have gone.

The room was mostly left untouched, small golden trinkets left bittersweetly on top of the dresser, a few pairs of skinny jeans left on the floor of the closet, a cell phone resting on the bed. Messages from crew members, texts and voicemails- things Gavin wouldn’t get unless he ever came back. Ryan liked to visit the room for whatever reason. The others had used to, too, but habits died hard, mostly by time.

It was about a month after the complete disappearance of the mafia that Ryan found himself in Gavin’s room again, the note folded in his hand, when the phone rang.

It wasn’t any of the crew’s ringtone, but Ryan picked it up without hesitation- it’d gone long dormant, so it was a regrettable reflex to answer it.

“Hey, Vagabond,” someone said on the other end of the line. Ryan gripped the phone tighter, and went to protest, but the other person laughed breathlessly. “Mind meeting me at the bar?”

He hesitated, but something dawned on him. “You’re Gavin’s weapons contact.”

“Constellum,” she said. “The bar. You comin’ or what?”

“Yeah,” he told her, tucking the note back into his pocket and standing. “Yeah, I’ll be there soon.”

“Cool,” she hummed. “Bring the gun.” And the line went dead.

 

The bar still seemed closed, but this time there were a few stragglers lounging around outside. The same person from before was standing in front of the door, except their hair was a soft lavender this time around- they saw Ryan and smiled, kicking the door open behind them and waving him in.

“I’m Andromeda,” they told him. “You’re looking for Siren- she’ll be behind the bar.”

_Thank you_ , he signed, and they nodded, tapping against the door with their nails, waiting until he was inside to close the door behind the both of them.

The inside of the bar was considerably fuller, alive with music from a jukebox in the corner, a Tom Jones song was winding down beneath the noise of the people that littered the booths and tables. There was someone carving into a table in the corner with a dark handled knife- on the table next to that one was a poker game, a few people stacking candies and coins as a bet. Ryan watched closely and noted how one of them was slipping their hands into other people’s pockets with practiced precision and then carefully handing things to the dealer to share shady grins. Another just across from them was nearly passed out with an empty bottle in their hand, liquid stains on their grey hoodie. There were others, scattered around, shady and quiet, watching him walk by, but not daring to say a word.

There were three figures at the bar- one behind it, stirring drinks, the others laughing in front of it, a tall woman and a redhead. The woman glanced over towards him and smiled, nodding in his direction, which made the other two turn. She kissed the one behind the bar on the cheek before slipping away and up the stairs- the redhead hiccuped and swayed over, but Andromeda took his arm before he could quite make it. Something about him was familiar and then Ryan recognized the jacket and the gun at his side.

“That’s...”

“Sylver, yeah,” the one behind the bar- Siren- said, and Ryan turned towards her. She smiled and shrugged. “He’s a bit drunk, so he probably wouldn’t recognize you back.”

“You two helped us out a couple months ago- you’re Gavin’s contact? How’s your shoulder?”

“Just a scrape,” she laughed, upturning a cup to dry. “Not as bad as Axials’s knee. Or Rimmy Tim’s shoulder.”

“You’re avoiding the question,” he huffed. “You know Gavin.”

“I should, shouldn’t I?”

“Should you?”

“He ever tell you about who helped him, back before you guys?”

“...that was-” Ryan blinked, and the mercenary smiled again with a shrug.

“I ain’t much. I’m pretty young, pretty stupid. I don’t like getting into fights if I can help myself. But back then, when it was just me, and Sylver, and my wife-” she gestured up the stairs, “-we couldn’t do a lot. Gav came along and was good at getting weapons, and stuff. He was a bit older than us, but he depended on us. And when we found out, we couldn’t abandon him. So we found him a crew. Ramsey took him in, and we ended up growing our ranks- _Nessa!_ ” she suddenly shouted, and Ryan turned to see the sleeping hooded kid jump slightly, sloshing something from the bottle onto the table. “Try not to spill too much, or Feist’ll take your new watch.”

The pickpocketer at the poker table huffed and Nessa swiped indignantly at their head. “Quite an establishment you’ve got here,” Ryan mumbled, and noted absently that the same Tom Jones song was playing, despite him remembering that it wasn’t that long.

“Yeah, well, it’s a crew,” she told him, nodding towards the dealer. “Raven’s got a damn good aim, and S. Wise-” she gestured towards the person in the corner who was now carving something in the wall. “Well. You can probably guess that they’re pretty handy with a knife. Everyone here’s family. Gav was no exception.”

There was a steady silence between them as she reached down and scooped some ice and a mix into a tumbler and he tapped against the wood of the bar. What’s New Pussycat started playing again, and somewhere behind him a crash and a yelp said that Nessa had passed out and Feist had gotten the worst of the spillage onto them. There was something heavy weighing at his side and he remembered the gun. He pulled it out and put it on the bar between them. Siren paused mid sip, put the tumbler down, and sighed.

“Yeah, that was a gift. To me! From him,” she laughed. “A thank you present. But he needed it back, for reassurance, with this mafia shit. Never got it to him.”

“Do you know where he is?”

She tapped the gun and pushed it closer to him. “No, but I think you do.”

He looked at her and she laughed again, brushing hair from her eyes and humming thoughtfully. In the background Sylver laughed at something Andromeda said, the door opened and someone greeted another person- _Hey, Magpie!-_ the song on the jukebox ended and changed to _It’s Not Unusual_ , making snickers break out across the patrons. All he could do was just look at her, still confused.

“Think about it,” she said, tracing patterns into the water on the bartop. “You aren’t an idiot.”

A wry smile twitched on Siren’s lips and she rolled her eyes, but tapped her nails on the gun again to get his attention. “Gavin won’t come back to you. He’s too stubborn to do anything but stay away to keep you safe. But if you can find him first, he won’t push you away.”

Her smile changed to something kinder. “He loves you a hell of a lot, Haywood.”

He looked down at the gun in front of him, and the note in his pocket seemed less like a weight he wanted to get rid of all of a sudden and more like something he could never let go of.

“Go get your boy,” Siren told him, and he could suddenly see why she’d named herself that.

 

After that talk Ryan started back to the penthouse. Siren had cleared a lot of things up- but at the same time she’d made things a lot more confusing. He’d left the bar with What’s New Pussycat stuck in his head, a pounding headache and absolutely no clarity on how to bring anything up with Geoff.

He stopped just outside of Gavin’s personal apartment. He hadn’t been there in a while- the key was with the rest on his keyring, an ugly gold one that Gavin had dropped into his hand unceremoniously when he’d felt it was necessary. He’d wondered. Gavin had laughed and answered any question with a kiss.

Before he knew exactly what he was doing he was heading inside and up the steps of the building, pulling the key from his pocket and unlocking the front door.

When he stepped inside there was a gust of cool air and the scent of sweet citrus filled his nose. He peeled off his mask and let it hit the floor next to him, his fingers twitching for something to hold. He surveyed the main part of the apartment from his place in the doorway. It was empty and unused and it was _wrong_.

He stepped in and closed the door behind him.

His cell phone suddenly rang in his pocket and he fished it out, distracted. Geoff’s name flashed and he answered. “Yeah?”

“We got word from a couple sources that there’s been an overthrow of a couple of gang bosses in the area. One in particular is causing a hell of a lot of problems for us and we’re gonna need the gang wiped out. Michael’s already on the job, and a couple of old friends, but we could really use your help with this.”

Ryan couldn’t find it in himself to answer him straight away. His mind was too focused on how _tired_ Geoff sounded- more than usual, of course, but if Gavin’s leaving had affected anyone as strongly as him, it had definitely affected Geoff. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, of course. Ryan heard him sigh.

“Gimme a bit,” Ryan finally answered, slowly. “I’m looking into something.”

“Yeah, buddy. Take your time.”

He hung up and Ryan tossed his phone onto the coffee table, knocking over a closed bottle of black nail polish. He stared at it, for a while, before sighing and going towards the bedroom.

Gavin’s bed wasn’t made and there were pieces of crumpled paper scattered everywhere. An old laptop sat forgotten at the edge of the sheets, and Ryan moved it to the side table before shrugging off his jacket and kicking off his shoes. He spread himself onto the mattress and pulled the covers up and over himself, taking a deep breath. Vanilla. Why did he always smell like fucking _vanilla_ and citrus.

“Is it good, how you’ve changed me?” he wondered aloud. “Before this I don’t know if it would have mattered to me if you’d left. And now that you have, it’s _killing_ me, Gavin.”

His fingers skirted over the pillowcase. “Did you do this to hurt me? Say you love me and then let go?”

_Don’t be silly_ , Gavin had said. _You know I meant it_.

“Then why leave?”

_Because I love you_.

“Then why didn’t you tell me you hated me before? You said yourself. It’d hurt less.”

_Can’t lie to you, Ry. Never could. You were the only one who knew._

Ryan tugged the note out of his pocket and traced each word on the paper. _The only one who knew_.

“I’m coming,” he whispered before his eyes closed.

 

He didn’t tell anyone he was going, and he just left.

Borrowing Jack’s plane might have tipped them off, though. So he unwillingly took a regular flight and sat through the uncomfortable twelve hour ride, watching movies and napping and thinking about ways to find Gavin.

He knew the lad wouldn’t make it _easy_ , in any sense- he was protecting his family and would keep a distance to stay that way, but Ryan was determined.

And a little desperate.

He started in any underground system he could find, asking around. The criminals in London tended to be like any other criminals he had known. There were some lower branch robbers that he found were easier to persuade with a little extra cash, and when the american dollar wasn’t good enough for them, he learned a knife worked just as well. A kid he didn’t catch the name of managed to stutter out a town with rumors of an overtaking- someone’s son returning and the entire area being completely overrun by criminals, becoming more of a fortress than a city. He dropped the kid and found a bike two blocks over.

When he reached the town, it’d been nearly ransacked. Not bad information, he knew, because when you scare someone enough they can’t find it in themselves to lie. Someone had warned them, maybe- or maybe there had been plenty of street cameras along the way that he hadn’t seen or bothered to avoid.

And someone had been watching for him.

Ryan parked the bike at a motel and took a hot shower, pulling Gavin’s old laptop from his bag and looking over his notes again, getting in contact with anyone he could who he knew wouldn’t tell the crew where he was. There were far and few between of people like that, but he took what he could.

He knew he couldn’t continue moving blindly, like this- it had cost him a few weeks already. He wasn’t interested in wasting time.

 

It took him another two months. Gavin had been gone four.

Every time he thought he was close, the trail disappeared. It was frustrating and tiring and if he was any smarter he would have given up. But before anything he was desperate, wanting, alone- a little angry. At himself or Gavin or the fucking mafia, he wasn’t sure.

There were spreading rumors of an advancing attack on the states- of something terrible, an approaching storm and war between two groups. But apparently it had been put on hold due to the death of a mafia boss, and the next in line was, reportedly, against the entire idea.

There were many, many mafias in the area, and Ryan had taken down plenty of them in search of Gavin. He’d become something ruthless, undeniable- they called him Hades, here.

If this group didn’t have the information he wanted, then he could move on- _after_ he took out the head.

He drove in silence, the middle of the night, and arrived at a smaller warehouse in a port area just on the coast. There was a ladder leading up the side towards the roof and he climbed it slowly, anticipation building within him. When he reached the top, he pulled the gun from his back and turned towards to where the ocean was meeting the horizon. The boss stood at the edge of the roof, hands behind his back, his hair pulled into a tight short ponytail that whipped around in the wind. The moon was full, and low, and it cast him into a haloed silhouette, highlighting the edges of his suit. Ryan raised his gun and kept it trained on the boss's head.

“Heard your father died,” he said casually, a new mask changing his voice, and didn’t miss the way the man stiffened slightly. “And some business about attacking the states? Not the best plan.”

The boss said nothing, so he continued. “The Free mafia. Any contact with them? Any _ideas_ of where they might be?”

Nothing but silence. He switched the safety off and sighed. “Then you’re useless to me.”

He went to pull the trigger but something felt _strange_ \- the silence, and how simple it had been to approach him. A confusion spread in him and he slowly lowered his gun. He must have known he was coming- why would he just-

“Are you going to do it, or not?” the man asked, and Ryan choked a startled gasp that might have been a partial sob. The boss turned in his confusion and Ryan flicked the safety back on and threw the gun away, his hands shaking.

“ _Gavin_ ,” he breathed.

The lad before him had changed- his beard was fuller and his hair was evidently long enough to slick back and pull into a short ponytail. He seemed a lot softer than before, but at the same time, sharp and rough, grown. Rugged. Powerful, in a way, but still unsure. Still small, and hesitant. His eyes were still green and his hair was still a dirty gold and Ryan wanted so, so badly to kiss him. He threw off his mask and tossed it aside, too, and watched as recognition blossomed on Gavin’s face. He gave him a small, sad smile.

“Did they send you to kill me? You’ve been tracking me for... a while, really.” He turned and looked out towards the moon again. Ryan’s brows furrowed in confusion. “I probably would have let you come for me earlier but the rest of the _family_ -” and he said the word with such distaste that Ryan actually took a step back, “-kept moving me. And then David died, and I was just- I was _just_ -”

He took a shuddering breath. “If they told you to kill me, that’s fine. It’s fine if you hate me.”

“If... who told me to kill you?”

“Geoff. The crew.”

“Why would they have me kill you?”

“I’ve nearly killed all of them, haven’t I?” Gavin laughed bitterly. “I’ve _ruined_ everything for myself. Why would I ever be able to be happy? Why would I ever think I could stay- I knew they were coming! I _knew_! I let them!”

He turned with tears in his eyes. “How could I ever face them after that? Why would they ever let me live if they _knew_?”

“But they _don’t_ ,” Ryan cried, and grasped at Gavin’s wrists. “They don’t know, Gavin, I never told them. I left on my own, I left to find _you,_ to promise you- to take you home.”

“You didn’t...” Gavin hiccuped and pushed forwards into Ryan’s arms.

“I could never,” Ryan promised. “I love you, you know that. I could _never_.”

“I love you too,” Gavin whispered. “I can’t go back, though. I can’t stay, but I can’t go back.”

“I don’t think I could, either,” Ryan said slowly, and Gavin laughed in his arms.

“On the run we go, then.”

 

It would have been safe to say that the mafia never really fell apart when their godfather left- there’s always another, a next in line- but the Fakes were never targeted, because they were not believed to have been involved.

Or, so the sources said.

There were attacks on the Fakes regardless. To lose two main members within the year, especially two heavy hitters, their negotiator and their mercenary, was considered a point of weakness. But there was always another set of mercs that stepped in to help. When Geoff would ask who they were, they’d shrug and tell him friend of a friend- tell him to stop by the bar for a drink sometime. You’ll get the answers you need.

He never did. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear what they’d say.

Somewhere in the states, two criminals known as Midas and Hades brought havoc and chaos wherever they went, and the Fakes were too distracted by the hope that they wouldn’t come and destroy their city to make the connection.

 

In a motel on a Florida beach was a pair of men resting in each other’s arms. The thinner one’s hair was just past his shoulders now and the larger one ran his fingers through it while his partner slept.

And Ryan thought.

Maybe he’d been happier, with the crew, than he ever had been on his own. As happy as he’d been, though, he knew he was better off freelancing. There were no troubles with warring crews, when he was alone- if anyone hired him, they knew what they were getting into. No one dared to expect him to take the fall.

He’d known someday he’d go back into it, but this time, he wasn’t _really_ alone.

Gavin had always had a knack for computers, for hacking- he admitted quietly one night he’d prefer to stay inside, and not go into the field. Maybe it was that fear he’d be recognized and they’d take him again. Ryan didn’t push the issue.

Because Gavin had a knack for wrapping people around his finger and trailing them behind him like they were on a leash, and Ryan had a knack for following easily along.

To hell with the rest of the world-

Gavin loved him. And he loved Gavin.

And they were safe- as safe as they could be while being criminals, of course- and they were _happy_.

And that’s all that really mattered, wasn’t it?

**Author's Note:**

> my [tumblr](http://transvav.tumblr.com)  
> leave a comment here! yell at me there!  
> please it's how i sustain myself. and my children. think of my children.
> 
> also sorry not sorry for the fuckin self insert section i love my kids


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